


Fisherboy

by tiersein



Series: Wings Beneath Benden [1]
Category: Dragonriders of Pern - Anne McCaffrey
Genre: Bayhead Hold, Benden Weyr, Candidacy, F/M, M/M, Male Homosociality, Original Character(s), Ramoth's Hatching, Seacraft, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-26
Updated: 2012-03-23
Packaged: 2017-10-28 03:58:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/303489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiersein/pseuds/tiersein
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Caizo and Naelo are carefree fisherboys living early in the Ninth Pass aboard a distance cargo ship run by a seacraft captain, only months away from walking the plank for their journeyman knots... but Caizo has gone and gotten the Bayhead Hold Holder's niece pregnant. When Benden Weyr rides on search, Caizo hatches a brilliant and daring plan. Set during Dragondrums. This is the hatching where F'lessan stands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bayhead Hold

Caizo awoke to lusty singing and the sun shining through into Bayhead Hold's male apprentice dorm. Somebody'd thrown the shutters wide open but left him asleep.

"I sail a hundred sleeping tides / Where no seamen's ever been..."

Laughing into his pillow, Caizo joined in despite his morning voice all hoarse:

"And only my white-winged craft and I / Know the marvels we have seen."

"I wouldn't get up yet," the singer told him. Caizo ignored him and pushed the covers down; why bother staying in bed when he was awake and feeling rested? The speaker, his friend Naelo, stood at the washbasin with razor in hand. Blond and blue-eyed, Naelo was already dressed in his cleanest workclothes, and even though his single looped shoulder cord marked him an apprentice, he could pass for twenty Turns and a proto-journeyman already. Caizo could see his friend's craft badge in the mirror, the blue fish on white affixed to his chest. Naelo looked ready to mingle at the Hold with the residents, not spend a day at sea for another set of lessons.

"Ships aren't going out today, huh?" Caizo asked, considering his to-do list. They'd ended yesterday with a splendid catch of whitefish and barely made harbor before losing wind. He hadn't expected to sail today but in six turns at sea he'd also learned never to count on anything related to wind, weather, or the whims of fishercraft journeymen.

Shaking his head in answer, Naelo wiped the lather from his chin and blade, speaking over his shoulder as he admired himself in the small mirror: "No, but Journeyman wants you down at storage to copy maps. Thread tomorrow and we're on groundcrew again."

"Thanks for letting me sleep."

Naelo shrugged. "Journeyman said no reason not to."

"Thank the stars for Journeyman," Caizo replied, grinning, and went about getting up. He'd lucked out with this ship, no doubt about it, and with her crew who understood the difference between hard useful labor and senseless makework. Naelo tidied his footlocker while Caizo washed his face and shaved; they bantered with harmless predictions of Thread's impact on their sevenday schedule.

Caizo pulled the door shut behind them as they left the quiet dorm, waving to a passing holder as they crunched down the rocky path to boat storage. Inside, Caizo perked up at the din of activity. Naelo, on the other hand, winced at the sight of too many men standing at the small forge room. "Everyone in from the sea, doing all the things they've been putting off," he complained.

"And you right in the middle of it," Caizo teased.

Their journeyman waved at them from a workbench on the second level. "Caizo!"

Waving back, Caizo turned to grasp Naelo in a handshake. "Want a swim this afternoon?"

"Think you'll get the maps done?"

"If we're going swimming, I will."

"Sure. I'll be with the metalsmith."

The boys separated with a quick secret handshake and Caizo climbed the stairs to the level overlooking the busy dock, hopping up onto a stool beside his journeyman at the high table they'd commandeered. A set of detailed reef maps awaited his attention. Caizo usually did the copying, for he liked the intricate detail of his profession's paperwork and he was good enough at it that his fine penmanship and careful eye were often praised.

"Thanks for letting me sleep," he told his journeyman.

"Oh, we all need a day now and then. Are you ready to work?"

"Always." Caizo reached for the blank sets of paper and let himself feel immensely satisfied with his life. It was going to be a good day.

* * *

Concentrating to the exclusion of all else, Caizo spent a focused morning copying the coastal navigation map he'd been given. He worked through the first call for the midday meal and managed to finish by the second. Placing his quill on the table, he realized that mostly everybody else had wandered up to the hold, so he flicked salt at the wet ink and stood, stretching his arms above his head and yawning loudly.

"Done, Caizo?" his journeyman hollered, from somewhere out of sight below his balcony.

"Yessir," Caizo shouted back, reaching for the map and shaking it to evenly distribute the salt. "Do you mind taking a look?"

His journeyman swiftly climbed the staircase and came to his side, but gave the map only a cursory glance. Naelo followed at a leisurely pace; Caizo raised his eyebrows in a question but Naelo only shrugged: _no idea either._

Their journeyman gestured Caizo towards the tall stool. "I wanted to talk to the both of you. Here, Caizo, sit down. It's quiet enough in here, we can have a quick chat."

"Have I been bad?" Caizo asked, taking a seat. Naelo rolled his eyes and hopped up to sit on the table, his feet on the balcony rail.

His journeyman always just smirked at their impertinence, which was one of the reasons they got along so well. "I don't doubt it, but nobody's come complaining to me today," he said, crossing his arms. "No, this is really good news. I'm impressed with your recent work. Both of you," he added, looking at Naelo. "The captain and I think your perseverance in the forge has been to your credit. Caizo, you know I've been setting you tasks which are very basic--" at this, Caizo thought _tedious_ very clearly-- "but clearly are not your areas of expertise. That tacking on our approach yesterday especially showed your good nature and willingness to work, even when you'd clearly rather be at the maps and calculations."

Surprised, Caizo beamed at the praise and exchanged proud looks with Naelo. He'd assumed the journeyman had let him sleep in this morning because of his performance on the tacking, and he was thrilled at the confirmation.

"... and, with that in mind, the captain and I've been comparing notes. We're to take two hopefuls from here at Bayhead as apprentices and try them out as we run down the Keroon coast. We’ll take on valuables at Keroon and make for Tillek. Caizo, you’ll be assisting with the Threadcharts to prepare the route. And." He paused, drawing out the suspense... “With the two babes about to pick up the scutwork, the captain’s agreed it'll be time for the two of you taking on some journeyman duties."

"Woohoo!" Caizo hooted, while Naelo pumped a fist: "Yes!"

"So much for professionalism, gentlemen," their journeyman teased, shaking his head with a smile before he continued loudly: "Let's be clear. This isn't the tables. You're a long way off from setting sail by yourselves."

"Come on," Naelo scoffed. "It's closer to setting sail than I was this morning!"

"Does this mean I don't have to take out the _Third Lady_ 's pisspots anymore?" Caizo asked, having had that awful task since Naelo had cheerfully beat him up over it.

His journeyman nodded. "That's correct. Now you'll be supervising your successor. And, on that particular note, let me be clear: there will be no excessive breaking in of the juniors, especially where the captain can see it. I've never said much on this account but we're all extremely lucky to have landed such a professional ship. I've served on far worse."

"We are," Caizo agreed, as Naelo nodded. They'd often remarked at their fortune to serve under their captain. He was never lax but, more importantly, he was never cruel and allowed no cruelty among his mates. The _Third Lady_ 's made plenty of long runs with only short stops in small, unfriendly sea holds to break the monotony while Thread passed over. Plenty of ships with terrible reputations made that run. Caizo and Naelo’s first, _Finger Rock_ , had been one such ship and they were always careful to be grateful.

The journeyman clapped his hands. "So with that said, I'll just congratulate you and tell you to carry on keeping on."

"Sir," Caizo said, his thoughts turning to the Thread charts he so easily memorized. "You said Tillek but when will we sail?"

"Four or five days, when the weather changes. Hug the coast to Keroon first, then bolt straight across for Ista and on right across the coast to Southern Boll beneath Fort’s wings. And that'll take us how long, Caizo?"

"About a sevenday," the fisherboy replied promptly, checking the ever-present maps in his head.

"Good. Anything else?"

"Can we take the afternoon off and go swimming?"

His journeyman nearly, nearly rolled his eyes. "The captain says you may, with his best wishes. And you'll be here at the Hold first thing in the morning for Fall groundcrew duty but free for the rest of the day. Then we're back down here for a full day of chart preps after. The captain himself will check your work, Caizo. Be sharp about it. Any other questions?"

"No."

"Nope."

"All right, carry on." The journeyman waved them away and went to collect Caizo's map from its place on the tabletop. Caizo capped his inkwell and, nearly incoherent with glee at his good fortune, bounded down the staircase to join Naelo on the path up to the Hold for what was left of the midday meal.

* * *

Naelo and Caizo had swum all through their free afternoon and now they lay draped across a patch of sunwarmed boulders, pleasantly tired, reminiscing about the first days of their own apprenticeships. The past seemed nearer in light of the hints of their impending promotions. Caizo couldn’t figure out how _that_ worked. And even more curiously, there was always another wild story one or the other hadn’t heard, for all they’d boarded the _Finger Rock_ at twelve turns together and been inseparable ever since.

"Caiiiiiizooooooo!"

Naelo sat bolt upright at the shout. He recognized that shout: it was a girl and she sounded like she meant business. "Isn't that the girl you went behind the tanning racks with last night?"

"Oh,” Caizo grinned wickedly. “And not just last night either. Softest _ahems_ north of Keroon. She was all ready and waiting for me when we pulled in, remembered me from last turn.” But he was sitting up slowly and the grin was replaced by a worried look as the girl called again. “I did tell her we were heading off.”

Naelo laughed at Caizo's consternation. "She doesn’t sound like she’s pleased about it. One of these days, you're going to regret this habit of yours.”

“At least I’ve _had_ sex.”

“At least I’ve never had to hide belowdecks until we got safely offshore."

"Caizo!?"

"Oh, she’s seen us."

"That she has," Naelo replied, smirking.

Caizo closed his eyes, apparently planning to play the long-suffering hero. "Well, at least she didn't come by earlier. Aren't we heading up to dinner?"

"I think we are, but don't you think she might want something important?"

"I doubt it..." Caizo pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked up as a determined-looking blue-eyed girl, just about his age, with golden wisps of hair escaping from her long braid, approached their little outcropping. "Hi, Lemita," he said, forcing a smile. "We're actually just going up for dinner."

Naelo felt a sudden trepidation, wary of the fierce look in Lemita's eye. He'd seen that look on women before and it'd never turned out well.

"Hi, Caizo. Can we talk first, before you go in?" She shot a significant look at Naelo and said pointedly, "It's _private_."

Naelo shrugged and slowly stood up, stretching. "I'll save your seat for one of our new apprentices," he told Caizo, pulling on his shirt.

"I'll save your--" Caizo remembered who was present and affected like he was apologetic. "Sorry, Lemita. We were just talking about our early days apprenticing, you know? My language gets all salty."

"See you at dinner," Naelo told him, rolling his eyes, and continued up the beach, resisting the impulse to look over his shoulders to glean what he could from their postures. But no, he steeled himself. Whatever Caizo had coming to him, he'd be sure to hear about it later.

* * *

Caizo was a long time coming to dinner but Naelo, always the good friend, snagged two enormous scoops of tuber pie as soon as he spotted the other fisher apprentice approaching. Caizo slid into the seat next to him and Naelo lifted a questioning eyebrow. Caizo looked fiercely laconic, trying very hard to affect no concern at all.

"You're not going to believe this," he said in a low voice. "You're never going to believe it." Naelo handed him a roll, which Caizo put down on his plate without even looking at it. "She says-- well, she must be lying. She _must_ be lying!"

Naelo couldn't stop the grin sidling across his face. Of course it was unhelpful. Of course. But he'd been waiting for this moment for years. "Don't tell me."

"SHARDS. YES. Don't look so smug! Oh shards, Naelo, she's lying."

... Naelo bit the inside of his lip and said, as quietly as he dared, "Bun in the oven?"

"It's not funny!" Caizo said loudly.

"People are looking--" Naelo gestured pointedly to the rest of the table. Fisher ears were keen for public drama. "Keep your voice down. We’ll be sailing in a few days."

“It’s worse than that. Her father’s _harbormaster_ and her uncle’s Holder. She says she’s going to tell her father I want to _stay to be married_. You think he’ll listen to me? He’ll kill me if I run for it.” Caizo’s voice dropped low as he added, miserably, “Journeyman’s going to kill me in the first place. What did I ever do to deserve this?"

Naelo scoffed. "You told her you loved her, didn’t you."

"No! Yes! I don't know!"

Naelo closed his eyes and slid his fork into his food. "But you did sleep with her properly, right? No chance it’s some other man’s?”

"... well, I wouldn't say it involved _sleeping_ , or even _laying_ , really. Naelo!”

"Welcome to fatherhood."

Caizo swore again and seized his roll, chomping a bite out of it. He still looked hunched and defensive, having given up his attempt at appearing not to care. "We need to sail now," he said.

"Nobody's going anywhere with Thread tomorrow."

"Shards! Two whole days here!"

Naelo shook his head, remembering their schedule. "You heard Journeyman," he warned. "It's another three or four days after Thread before we weigh anchor. You’d better whip up those charts as fast as you can." The humor in the situation was fading, though. This was an important voyage for their careers. What if Bayhead required Caizo to stay and provide? Naelo'd be flamed before _he'd_ learn to navigate.

Of course he wouldn’t be required to _navigate_ , but mapping fish schools and providing detailed records back to local holders were typical duties for the fisher journeymen assigned aboard ships of the seacraft.

"Maybe she'll forget about it," Caizo told his forkful of tubers.

"Is she here?" Naelo asked.

Caizo looked up in alarm but after a good look around the hall, admitted he couldn’t find Lemita at any of the tables. The fisherboy lowered his voice. "Do you think she's told anyone? I bet she's told her mother. Frightening woman, that one. Likes me far too much. She's probably behind this. Trap me in, make me settle down."

"You have terrible taste in women." Naelo smirked and tried to waggle his eyebrows suggestively. "Should've stuck with men. Less risky."

"Tell me about it. Just. Then I’d have some other father chasing me down the docks with a length of rope. Oh, can we leave it alone?" Caizo put his drink down hard, unintentionally putting his arm in his plate, and shoved his chair back. "Oh, my sleeve. These tubers are everywhere! I'll see you later. I have to change my shirt."

Naelo watched his friend stalk off under cover of that flimsy excuse, then stabbed a vegetable from Caizo's plate and chewed it thoughtfully. Maybe Lemita was lying, but why? Maybe Caizo really was a father. Maybe Naelo'd get to be an honorary uncle... the sort that told wild stories and led the youth astray. Ha. _In my dreams,_ he thought.

Those dreams had previously included he and Caizo taking their own ship out someday. Could they do that if they didn’t even have the same filial hold to hail from?

A young Bayhead fisher two seats down was staring, clearly having seen Caizo storm away. Naelo pointedly rolled his eyes; the fisher smirked and turned back to his plate.

And yet ... the truth of the babe probably it didn't matter. Rumor was news enough and _news_ had a way of getting around in a cavern full of fisherfolk.

* * *

Naelo lay shirtless on the deck of the _Third Lady_ two days later, enjoying the warmth of the sun-soaked planks against his bare back, fingers idly knotting and unknotting a handy piece of twine. Most of the men were still ashore, enjoying their last free afternoon before the ship's loading commenced. Through the rigging Naelo could see a lone sweeprider passing overhead, probably noting the deployment of Bayhead's fishing fleet back to the sea in the wake of Thread. From this angle and at height, Naelo couldn't tell the beast's color. It didn't really matter, he supposed, and tried again to unknot the twine without looking at it.

Caizo'd made a big deal about dragging him out to the ship that morning, intending to hide from his potential child's mother, but Naelo hadn't really minded leaving the holdfolk to their own devices. He preferred the sea, was getting itchy feet like he always did in port, was ready to sail as soon as their captain gave the word. Now, laying on the deck, he saw their journeyman emerge from the hold and approach, knife and a half-carved leaping feline held loosely in one hand.

"Stop sulking, Caizo," their journeyman ordered, hopping up to sit on a pallet of grain. "It's getting on my nerves."

Naelo smiled at their journeyman's frustration as he gave up untying his knot and started making another. The man was near to turning forty and had gone to sea as a younger boy than they; he was dark-skinned, quick-witted, and knew his craft. Naelo and Caizo were sure he’d seen it all.

"And now Naelo's smirking. Whatever it is, it'd better not find the captain's ears, or so help me, not even dragons will save the two of you."

"You really don't know?" Naelo asked, earning a glare from Caizo before he'd even realized he'd opened his mouth.

Their journeyman shook his head and began to whittle a proper feline’s tail from his piece of driftwood. "Hasn't reached my ears yet either."

"Huh."

Caizo caught Naelo's eye. Naelo could see his friend looked relieved, the hunch in Caizo’s shoulders easing in a return to his usual casual swagger. Naelo was surprised to find that this actually bothered Naelo quite a lot. In fact, Caizo's reaction to the entire situation rubbed him the wrong way. Tunnelsnakes left babes unclaimed, not men.

"Caizo's got himself a babe," Naelo said aloud, looking away from Caizo and fixing his eyes on the rigging above. Journeyman knew Caizo better than anyone but Naelo, knew of and tolerated his promiscuity in port, didn’t mind whether his randy apprentice chased after boys or girls -- but Journeyman also wasn't a tunnelsnake, not by any stretch of the imagination, and Naelo hoped he could be trusted.

Out of the corner of his eye, Naelo could see that the journeyman had stopped whittling in mid-slice. Silence descended on the deck. Caizo slid even further down behind his protective barrel of folded cloth.

"Caizo wants to know when we're going to sail," Naelo added. "It's very, very important to him that we leave very soon. The girl's the Holder's niece."

"... I didn't hear that," their journeyman said, resuming his carving. Naelo's heart sank. "Oh, no, must've been the wind."

"There's no wind today," Naelo replied, a little desperate. People dealt with shock in different ways. Surely Journeyman could see that the _Third Lady_ couldn't sail on. Naelo ignored Caizo's glare.

Thankfully, Caizo spoke up, even if he sounded surly: "She's lying about it."

Their journeyman turned abruptly and shook a fist at him. "Don't tell me this! Naelo, we're going to detour to the Subsidence so's I can pitch you off myself. Have you lost your mind, man? Girls say all sorts of things that don’t merit consideration and I have a duty to report on to the captain something that’ll hurt the craft."

"It's serious," Naelo protested. "She's not just threatening, I really don’t think. She sounded _serious_. It's not right to leave a babe like this. Lemita's proper holdfolk and her da’s the brother of the Holder. How'll she do her parents right and find herself a holdman now, with a fatherless babe in her arms?"

Journeyman said fiercely, "She'll whip up a story about some roving dragonrider. Girls've done it more often than you know. And you're both forbidden to tell the captain. Caizo, how could you do this? You've got a journeyman's knot to think about! Regardless, Naelo, you're supposed to keep him out of trouble!"

Deeply disappointed, edging into disgust, Naelo shrugged and looked away. Usually Caizo's tendences were a joke; at that moment Naelo couldn't have felt more somber. "I just can't get between him and a pretty body, Journeyman."

"No," their journeyman agreed, sighing. Caizo studiously refused eye contact with anyone, only the top of his black hair showing over a grain bag. "Boys, we've not said because it's been a boring time this port and we wanted to get you through _this_ sevenday unscathed -- many thanks, Caizo, you unreliable tunnelsnake -- but we're not sailing for another sevenday at least."

Caizo yelped. Naelo felt his heart sink, then lift ... Caizo would have to admit the child. If Lemita was telling the truth, she'd be a fool to let him get away with another seven days to spin the story her way.

"There's no way to speed that up?" Caizo asked, alarmed.

"Schedules aren't mine to set. Captain's got an invitation from an old friend to attend queen Ramoth’s Hatching-day at Benden Weyr, which is the first such invitation in the eight turns I've been aboard, and he intends to see it."

It was that moment, Naelo would think later, that he ought to have been paying more attention to Caizo, for if he remembered right he might've seen a fool's glow light up in his friend's green eyes. That might've been the moment he could've headed off his friend's fool idea -- but he didn't catch it, and later he'd regret it.

"What're we going to do about the babe?" Naelo asked, unable to find any good solution to this problem.

"If memory serves, he's hid on ship at ports before. Caizo, if she doesn't see you will she forget about this thing? Or if you go ashore, can you string her along with love talk until we can sail?"

Naelo felt he had to protest: "It doesn't bother either of you that he's just leaving a girl here to have a fatherless child?"

"She's lying," Caizo repeated, for the umpteenth time.

"I'm pretty sure--"

"She's after my marks," he added. "Wants me for herself."

"Caizo, those are contradictory motivations."

"Well, it's true."

"You're the one that told her you loved her," Naelo reminded him, angry.

"... I don't want to hear it," their journeyman interrupted. "I don't know the details and I'll do my best to get us out of here early, but I'll be dead in the water before I let the captain catch wind of this."

Caizo muttered something and their journeyman said sharply, loudly, "That's a 'Yes, Journeyman' now, Apprentice."

"Yes, Journeyman," Caizo repeated obediently, and proceeded to crack his knuckles with intent. Naelo could see the fear and calculation working on his friend's sullen face.


	2. Benden Weyr Rides to Bayhead Hold on Search

Hiding on the ship only lasted those two tense days after Lemita gave Caizo her big news. The _Third Lady_ ’s captain, a tough and wiry seacraft veteran named Ghaerr, sent round the first mate to roust the boys as the sun rose. As far as he was concerned, two fisherboys would just get in the way of the loading.

"Go eat breakfast, lads, and enjoy the holdfolk." First Mate Samleri, seacrafter to the core, winked... Caizo didn't _think_ the man knew what was behind the frosty silence between he and Naelo, but he didn’t stick around to find out. One could never be sure with first mates. They had nearly as much power in a fisherboy’s life as the captain or Journeyman.

Fortunately, Naelo seemed to be speaking to him again. They hadn't discussed it since that horrible afternoon when Naelo'd told Journeyman the news. "Breakfast?" Naelo asked, when they'd got into the rowboat and were making their way to the dock.

"Fine," Caizo replied, heaving on his oar.

They docked, tied off, and went in, Caizo pulling back his thick, shoulder-length black hair with a leather tie. The dining hall was as busy as ever. He didn't dare look for Lemita, of course, but for all his determined not-looking, he was pretty sure she wasn't there.

"So this journeyman thing," Naelo told him, once they'd found seats and set to. "It's hard to wrap my head around. I've only thought of myself as an apprentice."

"Me too," Caizo agreed. "Seems like yesterday my father told me I ought to do better than he did, get my knot, make better marks. Earn more respect."

Naelo grinned and waved his fork. "Can you imagine? We'll have apprentices of our own in a few days. I'll be the solid man of wisdom. You can be the bad influence."

"Get 'em started while they're young." The two boys grinned at each other, bound by seven turns of shared experience cleaning latrines, gutting fish, tying knots, and calculating school densities. Not a lot of things in the world could come between them after all the things they'd done together.

Someone hollered from the entrance to the hall: "Dragons! Benden Weyr rides on Search!"

Caizo put his fork down abruptly as he processed the announcement. Naelo looked over his shoulder, looking for the person who'd shouted, or for dragons, which was silly as dragons wouldn't fit in the dining cave.

"... Naelo?" Caizo asked. "There's something I was meaning to tell you."

Naelo looked back and just _knew_ what Caizo was going to attempt. Had wondered, the night before, when it came to talk of Captain Ghaerr’s invitation. Naelo felt his face fall, felt the betrayal naked on his expression, banishing Caizo’s sense of cameraderie as quickly as it'd come on that morning.

"By fish and flame, Caizo, you don't mean--"

Caizo stared at Naelo, huge blue eyes unblinking, looking like he was teetering on the edge of a precipice. "I could go to the dragons," he explained desperately. “She couldn’t chase me there.”

Naelo looked at the nearest person, who happened to be a fellow sailor, though not from the _Third Lady_ , and remarked, "Oh, he's gone mad," as if the man was already in on the conversation. Anything was better than looking into Caizo’s wild eyes.

"I just, it's just to go for a few days." Caizo tried to explain. "I'll meet the captain after the hatching at Benden and we can ride back together, I’ll be back to the ship in a couple sevendays. They can't actually _let_ me be a dragonrider, that's ridiculous, I have the sensitivity of a fish. I'll just go and play along."

"Yes," Naelo told him, voice empty, eyes flat before he looked away. "Just go.”

The sailor beside Naelo rolled his eyes and reached for the salt. "Dragons do that to a boy."

Caizo would've bristled at "boy" in any other situation but just then he was distracted, mind racing. He stuffed a last forkful into his mouth and got to his feet, torn between escape and his desire not to leave on the wrong note. "Come on, Naelo," he pleaded. "It's nothing to dragons to give me a ride to the Weyr, I'll work for the few days up to the Hatching, and then I'll come back aboard when the Captain comes to see the eggs crack. I'm sure they've got a target of boys to meet, like fish in a fishing hold. Please. I'll fill it. Get some apprentice rider in good with his masters."

"They don't have apprentices, they have weyrlings. And you don't know what you're getting into." Naelo didn't get up, just stabbed a forkful of meat, still in shock. “You're mad. Lost your mind. You're utterly mad. Having a child and being stuck here at Bayhead for the wedding would be preferable to standing on the sands. Boys _die_ if they're not quick-footed enough, you heard the stories. This is a fool idea."

"Me getting married to a--" Caizo dropped his voice and hissed, "Me getting _married_ is a fool idea. This is a brilliant idea! It solves everything! And I'm quick-footed, I'll keep clear of any small dragons. Big ones, too."

"Caizo, have you considered that this is your _child?_ Could be your _son!_ "

"She's probably not even pregnant! She doesn't look it!"

"Possibly a _son_ from your father's line. You think he wouldn't want to know it?"

That brought Caizo up short, but only for a second before he rationalized Naelo’s words away as a low blow. His idea _was_ brilliant. Never mind his father, their captain'd have him ashore and married, writing letters every third day, probably paying good marks for letter-writing or something equally daft.

"You can sink in the Subsidence for all I care, Naelo. If I go and she never pursues me, we know she was just making it up to trap me. I bet you five marks she'll never--"

"Your _possible child_ is worth five marks." Naelo said flatly, seeing red. "Get out of my sight. You don't want to miss that _apprentice rider_ , do you?"

All of this was in hushed, hissed whispers but Caizo had put his hands on the table and leaned over it so they'd inevitably drawn attention. "Going out to try your luck, boy?" asked a passerby, smiling.

"Yes," Caizo said, nearly snarling, glaring at Naelo. "Wish me _luck_."

Naelo didn't.

But when Caizo had nearly made it to the door, Naelo wiped his hands and stood. Very slowly, very deliberately, still seething, he followed his friend.

* * *

Caizo shook his head as he stepped from the dining hall and started down the rocky slope to the seaside. How could Naelo know what he was going through? He could see his brilliant plan unfolding in his mind's eye: obtain passage to the Weyr, spend a regrettable few sevendays away from the ship, avoid getting dragon-chosen, and reboard after the egg shards'd settled. Easy. Now, what would he say to the dragonriders?

 _Hello, rider. I'm a fishercraft apprentice off the Third Lady. I'd like to attend the Hatching. I'm -- Could I get a ride to the Weyr? I'm Caizo, I'm a fishercraft apprentice. I'm an apprentice fisher. I'd just like a lift. No, I'd like to be a candidate._ Caizo paused suddenly and closed his eyes, trying to sort his thoughts. How did this work? He regretted not paying more attention to the dragon-containing parts of his Harpering.

"Watch it, apprentice," snapped someone behind him. "Dragonmad or not, you're in the way."

Caizo stepped quickly out of the older man's path and replied respectfully, the result of years of habit, "Sorry, sir."

"Huh." The man shook his head, mollified, and propelled another boy past Caizo toward the wide open space near the beach where dragons landed. Caizo took a breath. _I want a ride to the Weyr_ he told himself firmly, and followed them down.

Four of the great beasts, wings tightly furled to their backs, loomed over a small gathered crowd. Mostly gawkers, Caizo could tell, noting several seacrafters he knew would never leave their ships, and just three riders, distinctive in their flying leathers. Probably the fourth was up at the hold for paperwork. Caizo kept one eye on the biggest dragon, an enormous rich-soiled brown, as it approached a prospective candidate. He was struck by how carefully the beast moved, as if it were trying not to scare the boy.

He joined the group and tried to get a bearing on which man to approach. One rider, blue-badged, stood with his arms crossed, speaking with two holders. Caizo edged toward them.

“Things different under F’lar,” the bluerider said loudly, surely so that his voice would carry over the crowd.

"How many eggs did you say?" asked the more burly of the two seamen.

Caizo realized with a shock that the bluerider looked about his own age as the young man cheerfully replied, "Thirty-eight, not counting the little queen."

"Here, boy," the other seamen said, noticing Caizo and beckoning him forward. "Trying your luck?"

"Er, yessir." The bluerider raised his eyebrows and the two men backed off, Caizo lowering his voice slightly. "... er, this is completely out of the blue, I know, but could I get a lift to the Weyr?"

The bluerider's polite interest changed into a smirk as he drawled, "... yes, when we ride on Search to make young men into dragonriders, nobody ever seems to want to get a lift.” But after a moment’s silence, he beckoned Caizo closer. “Come on, let Ralinth take a sniff.”

The blue swung his head over closer and Caizo fought to keep from closing his eyes as the iridescent eye gave him a good looking-over. Its hide looked shiny, like waterproofed oilskins, but it made no sound and, after a moment, it withdrew.

Blinking rapidly, Caizo forced himself to look hopefully at the bluerider.

“... all right," the rider said, leaving Caizo somewhat baffled. “Honestly, you seem a right sort. Seacraft, eh? You got a captain I can talk to?"

"... he's busy on the ship," Caizo lied. "It's my journeyman I'm beholden to. I'm Fisher, not Seacraft, we're a subspecialty."

" _Special_ , sure." The bluerider’s wit drew titters from the gathered crowd, though he seemed nonplussed. Clearly crafter distinctions meant nothing to him. "It doesn't matter. I've got to see your superior. Benden Weyr doesn't poach from the crafts."

Caizo felt he should clarify so he stepped closer and pitched his voice lower, saying knowingly, "You don't have to _Search_ me properly. I don't want a dragon, I just want to go to the Weyr. I’ve got to get out of here and it'll be all right, my captain’s had an invitation to the hatching. We can return together. He'll have transport. I can work til then, earn my keep."

With a laugh, the bluerider shrugged. "Oh, I see. Well then, by all means, hop up."

"Really?" Unable to believe his luck, Caizo wondered if he'd have time to grab his things--

"No." The bluerider rolled his eyes. "Get on out of here."

Stunned, Caizo came up short at the finality (and perceived unfairness) and blew out his breath in frustration, mind racing to come up with something convincing. "Come on, I'm just asking for a lift. I'm a laborer, I can work there til my ship comes down with tithe. We can throw in a little extra on the fish side. Dragons like fish, don't they?"

 _"Oh yes,"_ said someone who must've been just over his shoulder. The crowd was growing as several young people Caizo's age were joining them, though they were mostly hopeful girls. Caizo didn't really understand it. Didn't dragons come around fairly often? Wouldn't all these hopefuls have already been picked up in the past? He sighed and refocused on the bluerider, putting on the pleading face that'd gotten him out of so much trouble in the past.

"See? Look, my captain's got a Hatching invite so he’s got rank. My journeyman won't need me for a sevenday. Come on, rider, cut me a break here."

Out of nowhere, a hand slapped the back of his head, rocking Caizo forward on his feet. He whipped around and came face to face with an older rider, green-badged and stern. He carried himself like the captain; he did not seem like a man to cross.

"Put respect in your voice, apprentice. We've got a problem here, S’pan?"

"No, M’del," the bluerider replied, shaking his head. "Apprentice wants a lift to the Weyr, not Search."

"We're here to choose boys for dragons," M’del told Caizo sternly. "The Weyr isn't for running away from your problems. If you're running to the Weyr, you're running to candidacy and hard work."

"I understand, sir," Caizo cut in. "I'm Fishercraft, I know about hard work."

M’del shook his head, already dismissing him with a wave. "Let me finish. Dragons get final say. If the dragons aren't interested, you'd best stay with your prior obligations."

 _No. I like him._

"Who said--?" Caizo said aloud, looking up reflexively. The blue loomed overhead, massive whirling eye peering down at him.

M’del frowned and looked past them at one of the two greens, probably his, which peered intently in their direction. Caizo looked back and forth from S’pan to M’del, wondering whether he ought to speak or not. Wondering if he’d made a terrible decision. But no -- if he was to be rejected, it would be by their choice, not by his own cowardice. He’d committed. He must see this through.

He couldn’t be here another day for fear of what might happen.

After a moment, Greenrider M’del turned that hard look back on him. "You understand that if you're to the Weyr for candidacy, you're a candidate like everybody else and you'll obey orders like you were back in a junior knot."

"No 'special' there," S’pan chimed in. M’el, nodding agreement, dismissed them with a frown and a wave. S’pan sighed, whether at his dragon or the greenrider, Caizo didn't want to know. He only realized a moment later that he himself was the cause of the bluerider's exasperation. Well, he'd cracked the eggs now, he'd have to eat them.

"Apprentice, I want your journeyman here to give me leave to take you."

Caizo breathed out a hard breath. "I'll go and find him," he said. "You'll wait?"

S’pan looked more amused than anything, but it wasn't a friendly expression and his tone was sardonic. "Likely not, so make haste. Your journeyman says the word, you're up on Ralinth and Weyrbound."

Caizo narrowed his eyes at the bluerider, suspicious. "For real this time?"

"Yes, 'for real'. That's what M’del said, boy. This is _all_ real. Ralinth vouches for you so you're in for all of it. Follow the rules, do what you're told, mind your manners. The Weyr looks after its own. Go get your journeyman. And not an apprentice wearing a knot he doesn't own. _Ralinth's watching you._ ”

The beast was, too. Creepy.

Caizo kept one eye on the blue dragon as he jogged up the beach to the dining hall, only to find Naelo nowhere in sight. Feeling put-upon as he jogged down to the shared dorm, Caizo hoped seven turns of friendship would count for something. Surely Naelo would forgive him? After all, he hadn't asked for his predicament and, though he'd spent hours trying, he couldn't see another way free of it.


	3. Benden Weyr and Keroon Hold

Caizo had never felt so relieved to be forgotten in the rush of a crowd as he was on his second day at Benden Weyr. The hustle made him wary. Everyone walked with purpose, coming and going as if they had destinations, and while he normally would've found the quiet confidence and beautifully fit bodies intoxicating, at the moment he felt quite lost. He kept one careful eye out for S’pan and Ralinth but never saw them, but why would he? There were nearly four hundred dragons here now, he’s heard. He wasn't sure if this fact was reassuring or terrifying.

The Weyr's wings mobilized for Threadfall that morning and were all back by late afternoon. The smell of char and heavy metals hung in the air, and the groans of the wounded as he helped wet bandages at the infirmary had done nothing for his nerves. Freed for the afternoon , he distracted himself by watching the post-Fall activities.

At first he just tried to soak in the details without being too obvious about staring, but he rapidly noticed a few important facts. First, that the most common color of badge Caizo saw was green, then blue, and that it was these riders who were responsible for all of the ... _touching_. The casual backslap, the caress, the tight hugs. And dragonmen seemed to be just that: men, and _all_ man. After the debriefs, riders with no responsibilities dispersed to the cave-pocked cliffs, feeding paddock, and weyr lake; they lay about or wrestled, again, greens and blues often pairing off.

The badges in the caverns and infirmary turned mostly bronze and brown as the leadership took stock of their wounded and prepared their reports. Caizo could recognize the managerial similarities with coordinating a fishing fleet.

Then he saw a gorgeous light-haired boy not five turns older pass by and realized that the boy wore an arm-splint. Looking around, suddenly all Caizo could see were the injuries. A limp on the big burly greenrider by the fire, a cane on that lean bronzerider deep in conversation with the headwoman, all sorts of scar patterns on bare arms and faces. Small things that added up, and an occasional big thing just to keep him constantly feeling off-guard.

“Hey,” an older rider said, catching Caizo’s arm with a wink in lower caves hallway as he went about an errand. “Candidate, right? Angling for green, by any chance?”

Caizo felt his spirits jump and turned. The rider was blue-badged and gorgeous, warm brown eyes under a shock of tangled brown hair. Caizo opened his mouth to flirt in return but then his eyes caught the terrible mess of torn, burned, and scarred arm hanging from the rider's left shoulder. Clearly this man had not flown Threadfall that morning.

His face must have shown his disgust because the man's sparkling eyes narrowed and he released Caizo with a grimace. “Maybe not green after all,” he decided. “Remember, Candidate, we're fighting riders on fighting dragons. It's not all fun and games. See you around ... if you’re brave enough.”

Speechless, Caizo watched him saunter away, eyes torn between the man’s tight ass and his withered, useless arm.

Still reeling, he went on about his errand and finally located the lower caverns worker from whom he was supposed to collect clothes and bedding. He tried to point this preponderance of injuries to her, to commiserate, but was surprised to be very thoroughly rebuffed.

"Ask any of them and they'll tell you it's worth it," she said cheerfully. "Even the dragonless men, I don’t know that they’d ever say they ought not to have come to the sands. Not that they stay around here, mind. Can't bear the memories."

Caizo nodded for lack of words, watching her pop the lock on the stores door. "I'll never think of riders the same when I go back to the ship,” he said slowly, musing aloud. “Well, not that I ever thought of them before. We always just saw them flying above, criss-crossing our bearings. Reassuring, though."

"You're giving up on Impression so soon?" she said, giving him a perplexed smile. "You've just arrived. Don't fret, my dear. It's natural to be intimidated."

"Oh, no, no. I'm not intimidated."

She smiled and shook her head, pulling out a basket and folding back the cloth. "I’d tell you that you’ll feel better when you’ve had a chance to speak with your Weyrlingmaster, but I’m afraid he’ll just tell you scary stories. But you ought to see that it's worth it. When those eyes look up at yours. Aw, well.” She sounded wistful.

"No," Caizo tried to protest, but he could see where he'd slipped up, talking like he was going back to his ship after the Hatching and there wasn't anything he could think of to persuade her he wasn't a coward. Instead, he tried to change the subject by asking how much he owed for the cloth.

She laughed out loud, then. "Ah, no, we don't expect candidates to pay."

"I have marks," he protested, stung by the insinuation that he didn't. He'd snagged his pouch when he'd found Journeyman aboard ship, back in Bayhead, because it never did to be markless and he'd be drowned before he'd be in any man's debt when the eggs shook and it came time to reboard the _Third Lady_.

"No candidate pays for linen and things," she explained. "The Weyr looks after its own. A lot of them come here markless. Food, lodging, training: all that's free for the Searched. It's all what Pern owes its wings."

"I guess that's a way to get candidates to come, isn't it?" he asked without thinking, his tone disdainful, thinking of all the uncrafted he'd met in the seaside holds.

His guide looked up with a fierce expression and spoke like her words were on fire. "If I were you, Candidate, and if I had your attitude, I'd keep my mouth shut." She slung the last of the cloth over the basket and shoved it at him, stiff-armed and irate. "Riders on dragons're the only reason you have holds to fish for, so this attitude's only going to bring trouble. You’re in the den now, you know. You’re lucky I don’t tell the headwoman and your Weyrlingmaster. No need to have ungrateful candidates when there are boys lined up to fill the sands. Especially now, under F“lar. How dare you!”

Caizo flushed hard but could think of nothing to say in his defense. He silently took the basket and slunk back to the barracks.

Barracks. Everything here was too martial for his tastes. He'd known hold guards, of course, though not more than any other young fisherman off a distance ship would come to know them through perfectly innocent circumstance, but he'd never wanted to _be_ one. Martial men were holdbound; he'd always relished escaping to the sea.

His second night at dinner with the other candidates came around to prior occupations and he couldn't think of anything to say, just "Fishercraft" and a shrug. For him, there was no prior occupation. In his own mind, Fishercraft Apprentice Caizo was just sightseeing in another hold, though it did happen to contain dragons and fewer women, while on liberty from his ship for a few days.

As he followed the candidates out from dinner, he touched the red and black Benden Weyr badge affixed to his chest and felt an odd flutter of tension in his heart. He was probably getting a reputation as a quiet one. Well, probably that was a good thing. Dragons didn't choose quiet candidates, did they? They wanted strong, fierce, outgoing _fighting_ men.

His close-up contact with dragonriders gave him the impression that they were all very confident, but who wouldn't have command presence when backed by tons of winged, flaming beast? What if he did something to get himself disqualified from the candidacy? The list of rules seemed as long as his arm -- but no, he discarded the idea immediately. The _Third Lady_ was en route and he couldn't dishonor his captain, his journeyman, his ship, much less his _craft_. This awful current of thought ran round and round in his head, keeping him trapped like a whirlpool.

He wondered what the captain thought about him now. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea.  
For a moment, he wished he were back in Bayhead with a babe coming and Naelo mad at him, but thoughts of the babe brought thoughts of Lemita’s breasts in his hands, and those were best avoided if he was going to keep from accepting a proposition here, so he found his way back to the barracks and sat down on his bed.

He and Naelo had often told themselves how lucky they were for having their particular ship and crew, especially Journeyman and their captain, but Caizo had never really seen his good fortune for what it was. He suspected, folding his arms behind his head and staring at the bunk above him, that Naelo was actually the smarter of them.

After a long while of thinking, Caizo identified the clenched feeling in his chest as sheer terror. It took another long while before he could slide a hand down his pants and bring himself to an exhausted sleep.

* * *

When Senior Apprentice Naelo came above-deck to check the late afternoon weather, he found himself opening his mouth to remark on the scattered clouds to Caizo. He closed it again, of course, and leaned over the side with a sigh. He knew the routine, but wandering up to borrow a spyglass for their evening report didn't seem nearly as interesting as it would've with a background of witty banter.

It was hard, being left behind.

"Senior Apprentice Naelo?"

Naelo closed his eyes briefly, wishing he had Caizo to run interference with these boys. These boys, as in _children._

"What can I do for you, Reedi?"

"I don't know how to fix this," Reedi replied. Naelo composed himself and turned around. Reedi was holding up his hammock, which looked ... torn? "I fell out of it last night," he said. "And Vetch is seasick again."

"Did Vetch eat his biscuit?" Naelo asked, taking the hammock and inspecting it, very clearly thinking _like I told him to?_ without showing exasperation on his face.

"He says he doesn't want to eat," Reedi replied.

"It's for his own good: biscuits settle the stomach. He's your brother now, stuff it in him."

"Yessir. I'll take him one." Reedi went off, presumably to bother the cook, and Naelo shot his exasperated look at a deck hand laughing to himself nearby.

The boys were both thirteen but impossibly young, about the same height and both brown-haired, which was making keeping them apart in his head an awful chore. Their voices hadn't broken yet and they thought they knew everything. They were probationary apprentices and thus, on that basis, Naelo had privately confided to Journeyman that he reserved the right to drop-kick them at the nearest Hold when they got too annoying.

"Call me Vesrael," his journeyman had replied, smirking. "And now I want you to think about what I had to put up with."

So Naelo had, because Naelo was the thoughtful type, the counterpoint to Caizo's wildness. And though he'd often wondered if it wouldn't be quieter without his best friend around, now he knew it wasn't worth it. Quiet wasn't better. Quiet wasn't company. Naelo stretched out the hammock and fingered the weave, identifying the problem section, then folded it carefully for a sewing lesson.

He could tell the _Third Lady_ was making good time by the way the coast passed but, again, Caizo would've been the one to bring the inane observations and now Naelo didn't even have anyone to tell. Just two apprentices five Turns his junior and a journeyman twenty Turns his senior. Nobody here to joke with, to share duties, to plot that day's sharding school coordinates on the sharding nav chart.

Naelo sighed. Two days out from Bayhead heading south for Keroon, and Naelo still didn’t know what to do about his friend. Captain Ghaerr had ordered the ship south once it was made clear to him that Benden would provide a bronze conveyance on the day of the hatching and a return in the morning.

"Senior Apprentice Naelo?"

Reedi again.

Naelo breathed out and turned, face and body composed. _It should have been two on two, Caizo,_ he thought. _You tunnelsnake, you shouldn't have left me here with them._

 _Aw, we'll have them scrubbing the decks with their toothbrushes,_ replied the Caizo in his head, and Naelo could imagine the delighted grin on his best friend's face. What if Caizo was wrong about the dragons? What if the Weyr got him and kept him, Impressed him and sent him up to fight Thread? What if Naelo never saw him again?

"Reedi," he said aloud. "Have you ever even seen a needle?"

"Well, yes, Senior Apprentice.”

"You can call me Naelo, Reedi, you don't have to call me by my full title."

"Okay, Senior --"

"Call me Naelo, Reedi."

"Yes, Naelo. And no, I haven't used one. Girls did the mending."

Cursing Caizo, Naelo held up the hammock and sent Reedi for his sewing kit. "And bring Vetch! Seasick or not, he can use the lesson!"

"Yes, Naelo!"

On the one hand, Naelo was fairly sure his captain would be displeased if the boys were set ashore at Keroon Hold. On the other, if Naelo could convince his journeyma-- convince _Vesrael_ to do it, the boys could just as well walk home.

* * *

The trading brig _Third Lady_ sailed steadily southwest and avoided another Fall without worry, sheltering in a too-smoothly hollowed sea cave beside two off-course deep sea vessels and an enormous flock of wherries crapping purple berries on the sails.

The Fall was followed by torrential rain that came and went in heavy sheets; they nudged out into open waters and spent another day before sliding safely into the sheltered and wherry-free docks of Keroon Hold.

Naelo found Vesrael in the anteroom forward. “You wanted to see me, sir?" he asked formally, aware of the captain’s presence in his cabin behind the makeshift sliding wall. Of course anything Naelo would say would be overheard.

“Hold on a moment. Captain has news for you, you'll want to hear it," Vesrael told him, offering a handful of sweet nuts.

"Sure, and thank you," Naelo replied, covering his surprise by taking accepting a palmful. He knew better than to ask any questions with the captain listening in.

It was only a moment before Ghaerr emerged, adjusting his collar.

“Good news, Naelo,” he said cheerfully. “Journeyman Vesrael and I’ve been conferring and we’re pleased with your performance, particularly in light of Caizo’s recent ... absence. How do you feel about attending Benden’s hatching?”

Not really known to be quick on his feet, it took Naelo a moment to reply. “Er, in the galleries, sir?”

Ghaerr laughed and Vesrael smirked. “The bronze dragon will have space enough for the two of us, and three on the return if all goes according to plan, I think. But have I told you, Apprentice, that I’ve wanted to see a hatching my entire life. Always was a dream." The captain’s eyes softened with the memory. “Ah, but for a Weyrleader like F’lar throwing open the doors to holdborn in my time. Well, it’s a sight I’ve always coveted and I’ll not deny it to anyone who asks.”

“Yes, sir,” Naelo agreed, just to be sure Ghaerr remembered him as agreeable. Going up the rigging was one thing; flying adragonback was quite another.

“And you, lad?” Ghaerr peered closely at him. “Would you have said yes, had the chance arisen?”

“To watch, perhaps, sir. But not to stand.” Naelo shook his head, emboldened by the captain’s easy manner. “I don’t think I could do right by a dragon _and_ a ship, and I couldn’t ever give up the sea.”

Vesrael looked approving; Ghaerr merely nodded, satisfied with his answer. But Naelo hastened to add, “But I do absolutely wish to attend, sir, if only to see Caizo. If he were to Impress... do you think he will?”

“He’s a fool, right enough, and they say the dragons know best.” Ghaerr rubbed his mouth, looking thoughtful. “I don’t know, lad. You keep your nose clean and we’ll go along to find out.”

“Yessir,” Naelo replied, stiffening up respectfully.

“And you’ll keep your two babes clean as well,” Vesrael murmured, earning another fatherly laugh from Ghaerr and a repeated assent from Naelo. “All right, let’s go on out.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Naelo said, as warmly as he could.

“You’re very welcome, _Senior_ Apprentice,” Ghaerr replied. He was not a man to mingle with the crew, for all he wasn‘t brutal for sport like other captains in the distance fleet, and his praise came rarely enough that what he said next made Naelo‘s chest swell with pride. “You’re going to make a fine right hand to a captain some day, lad. You know the value of hard work and you’ve an encyclopedia of fishes in that head of yours. I do value having you aboard.”

Shocked, Naelo clasped the captain’s offered hand and repeated, firmly, “Thank you, sir.”

“All right."

Vesrael dropped a hand on Naelo’s shoulder and steered the apprentice out onto the deck. They took the plank down to the dock, ducking around dock laborers and between the pallets of outbound goods. They finally found their way to the hold caverns and took up plates for dinner.

“I wish I could give him a message, let him know I’m coming,” Naelo said finally, rolling up the bread and sopping up the remains of the meat-juices. He grinned sideways at Vesrael to show he wasn’t serious. “You know, it’s times like these, a man could use a dragon.”

"More trouble than they're worth," Vesrael scoffed. He'd worn his best suit of clothes for the Keroon arrival, like Naelo, clean and with the unfrayed cord.

"How do you know, really? Have you ever seen one up close?"

With a roll of his eyes, Vesrael took a swig of his ale. "Just my luck. I'm about to lose five turns of training to dragon madness and dragon envy."

"Don't say he's lost," Naelo told him, talking as he chewed. "And I'm not about to leave you."

Vesrael considered that for a long minute. "It’s a great honor you’re being accorded, I’m sure you understand that. A bronze conveyance to a Benden hatching. Not five hundred men on Pern can probably say they've been."

Naelo considered this and inwardly promised that he would’ve given it all up if it meant the business in Bayhead with Caizo had never happened. Dragons were dragons and firelizards were firelizards, and he didn’t see how being a fisher was less exciting or rewarding. He loved his work. He did. He wasn’t going to be Searched if he could help it.

Later, after drinks and back on the ship, Vesrael asked Naelo if he thought Caizo would really go through with standing on the sands for Hatching day, and if he'd be successful if he did.

Naelo thought about it. "He has to, doesn't he? Captain's going to think less of him if he gives it up after wasting everybody's time?"

"Not necessarily." Vesrael watched the glowlit caverns through the open hatch. "The captain had an invitation to the Hatching because of valuable cargo we hauled a turn or two ago. We're known for being reliable. The captain might think best of it if we get to attend Hatching and also sail with two senior fisher apprentices. It looks good on him if the _Third Lady_ successfully produces two journeymen."

"Not to mention good on you,” Naelo said, looking sideways at him. “Doesn't that help for mastery?”

“It does,” Vesrael admitted.

Naelo nodded, satisfied. He'd been thinking about how much older Vesrael was; he'd decided the man would make an excellent Master Fisher. “Are you telling me these so I can convince him to come home?"

Vesrael shrugged. He seemed to find the rain deeply fascinating. "Just talking."

Silence lingered as Naelo rolled thoughts around, trying to suss out how he felt about the Hatching Grounds. Scared, mostly. They were the most foreign place he'd ever heard of, even more foreign than a trip to the Southern Continent.

"... I do think he'll Impress if he goes onto the sands," Naelo finally admitted. He felt it deeply in the place in his chest where his few solid facts about the world resided. "Caizo's got that inner fire that's a lot deeper than people know. And he's kind, when he's thinking, and he's not afraid of anything."

"Doesn't have the sense to be afraid of anything," Vesrael agreed with a laugh.

"Not like me," Naelo teased.

"You do think more," his journeyman agreed. "You know, I served two turns on Great Bay patrol and ten on distance runs before I joined the captain, but you two are the best team I've ever seen."

On the one hand, Naelo's heart warmed to the praise. On the other, he had to ask... "How much have you had in your cups there, Journeyman?"

"Don't sass your elders, Apprentice."

Laughing, Naelo crossed his arms behind his head and leaned back in his chair, admiring the ceiling. "Vesrael?"

"Hm?" His journeyman had gotten up to reshuffle the glows.

"I don't ever want another life."

"Well, that makes two of us."

And Naelo knew, though he didn’t say loud: if he’d asked Caizo two sevendays earlier, his friend would've made it three.

* * *

Caizo wiped his wet hands on his equally wet trousers and kicked off his sopping shoes at the entrance to the candidate barracks, opting to carry them and walk barefoot across the stone. He missed the well-sealed, sun-warmed wood of the _Third Lady_ 's deck.

"Careful," he told one of the boys, a lanky fellow heading outside with towel in hand, "there's a big puddle right outside the door."

"I know," the boy replied shortly, and went out.

Frowning, Caizo passed a group of talkative candidates on his way to his bunk. He hung his shoes on the hook to dry, keeping one ear on the others chatting, and stripped off his wet shirt. He'd finished his chores but found himself at loose ends, alone because not one of the other candidates was still actively talking to him after that stores drudge had blabbed to the star stones about his 'attitude'.

The other candidates seemed to want bronze, brown, and gold, and that one baker girl was talking yet again about how she'd been through this before. "Nobody cares about you," Caizo muttered to himself.

"Oy there! Looking for Candidate Mollan!" came an adult's strong, clear voice from the front door.

"Down the way!" somebody told him, and Caizo ducked out from his bunk to see a _very_ attractive holder approaching. A boy two bunks up, wearing a jacket bearing Benden Hold’s shoulder-stripes, stepped into the walkway and waved.

Caizo swallowed as the man approached, revealing kind brown eyes in a round face with features softened nicely by middle age. He too wore a Benden Hold badge and carried a satchel.

"I'm Mollan," said the brown-haired Mollan cheerfully, his deep voice belying his youthful looks as he offered a hand to shake. "You're the messenger I've been waiting for, right?"

"Sure am. Bound up here on the tithe train and brought along this from your da. Give it a read. Gist is he's coming for the hatching; there's more though. Thought you ought to hear it all said right."

"Thank you,” Mollan said, more quietly. He accepted the thin, worn, well-used piece of vellum and turned back to retrieve his his marks-pouch but the man caught his shoulder and shook his head with a smile.

"No need, Candidate, the memories are payment enough. I was Weyrbred, did you know that? Before I left the mountain and went on down the road to be hired by your da. Quite different these days, o'course, but candidacy's candidacy, no matter the queen. Still eggs out there, maybe one of them with your name on it." The man gave Mollan a small, wistful smile.

"Excuse me, sir," said one of the other candidates, approaching. "Did you say you stood for the eggs?"

"I did! Twice!" The man grinned openly, his eyes seeing only memories. "Grew up in these halls, moved into these barracks. Was just old enough the first time and just about too old the second time, if you'd believe it. Then I did what any self-respecting laborer would do and went on down the mount to Benden Hold. I lift barrels for the wineries now... but, I'll have you know, I've never forgotten it. I was so sure both times I went out in front of those galleries. People cheering, dragons trumpeting. Oh, it still gives me shivers. I'll be on those galleries this time, make no mistake. Especially with the Weyrwoman's son on the sands." He paused and smirked. "Y'all know you've got a puddle out front of your barracks?"

"Yessir," Mollan replied, gesturing to his own dripping shoes on their hook.

"I tell you, in my day that'd have been covered or repaired before the Weyrlingmaster found it. What are you candidates coming to?"

Laughing, one of the other boys assured him he'd get on that immediately. Caizo leaned against his bunk, watching the man walk away. Watching Mollan retreat to his bunk and hold the letter, unopened, in his hands. Could he really read it? Caizo had suspected the boy was a dimglow, nothing but a laborer made for lifting and hauling. Like that winery-man.

Well, he certainly wasn’t opening the letter to _read_ it.

Slowly, as if it were sneaking up on him, Caizo felt ashamed for his thoughts.

It was possible that the real thing Caizo missed from his fisher life was being surrounded by competent, professional adults. Where were the real men here? Caizo wasn't anything to the his weyrlingmaster, and the horde of Benden dragonriders had better things to do than notice him. He missed the close camaraderie of the ship. He missed his family. Shardit, apparently he was _homesick._

But before he could process his shock at the revelation, a boy Caizo'd initially filed in the mental box labeled "big, burly, quiet" walked over.

"I'm Lesaf," the boy said, offering a hand.

"Caizo." They shook. "Are you farmcraft?"

"Yep, and you're fisher," Lesaf replied with a nod. "We've all heard."

"Look," Caizo tried not to bristle. "This whole thing's been a misunderstanding."

"Sure." Lesaf shrugged, dismissing the gossip. "What a thing, standing twice and going down to the holds forever, never having come from there. I wonder why they didn't pick him?"

Caizo rolled his eyes, defensive about the not-being-chosen. “Who knows why dragons do the things they do?”

Lesaf shrugged, unbothered. “It's something, eh? To be standing? Even if... well, if you'd rather not Impress. But I don't see why you came if you don't want it. I'd never given it a lot of thought, mind you, but I certainly learned all my ballads."

Feeling as if the conversation was sliding somewhat out of his grasp, Caizo frowned. “Are you saying I didn’t?”

For the first time, Lesaf seemed to realize that he was dealing with a cracked egg. “All right, easy. I’m just making conversation. Don’t know many fishers. Didn’t realize they Searched from the shipfolk.”

“Well, obviously they do. And, I’ll have you know I’m not just seafolk, but fishfolk, and nearly a journeyman besides!”

“Ah. Well.” Lesaf visibly searched about for something else to say. Unfortunately, he hit another sore spot. “Well, I wish you the best of luck out there. I know it’s a hard adjustment enough coming from the holdbound crafts, and me being just an apprentice. Don’t know why anyone would try for the sands with a knot in arms’ reach if they weren’t dragonmad, which you don’t seem to be.”

Caizo felt the blood in his face and knew he was blushing. "Mind your fields, farmer," he snapped. "I know what I'm doing."

"Any man who feels the call to say it usually doesn't," Lesaf replied, giving him an appraising look that cut more deeply than a shout could have.

"Hey!" Another boy Caizo’s age, with a quiet confidence about him, approached the end of the bunk. "Lesaf, leave him. Caizo, I've seen weyrling greens more reliable than you."

Lesaf opened his mouth to rant but only got as far as "He's--" before Banripos interrupted.

"Leave him, I mean it. Mind your own egg." Lesaf faltered but Banripos gave him a stern look and Lesaf went. Clearly they knew each other, Caizo thought, as the tough, thick-armed, thoroughly unattractive Weyrbred boy turned to act like he knew better than him. "If you’re thinking of ducking out, Caizo, you'd best do it right quick and not come back," she said. "Don't worry. Nobody'll think less of you."

"... than they already do, you mean?" Caizo snapped. "Mind your own nest, _Weyrbrat_. Going on and on about this candidate thing. If you're so good at it, why'd you get left standing last time?"

"Leave him, Banripos!" called another of the Weyrbred lads, before he could hit him. Probably could've knocked him out, too, he thought, feeling somewhat relieved as he turned abruptly and without a departing comment. Caizo had expected one and was left without the flush of a successful, snappy comeback. After a long minute, he snatched his towel and refused to look at the others as he passed, barefoot, out of the barracks and into the pouring rain.


	4. Ramoth's Hatching

Days passed and the candidate barracks swelled until there were nearly fifty of them, as many Weyrbrats as Holdbred. Early in the morning on the day of Threadfall, having alienated his fellow candidates and annoyed his weyrlingmaster, Candidate Caizo found himself tasked with dragging full firestone bags through the heavy, sticky fog and arranging them in giant piles. The boys around him shouted back and forth cheerfully, but he laboredo n in silence, thinking. 

He fancied that he could feel the tension, both in the adult riders and the weyrlings who came and went to examine the firestone and attend to their thousand tiny duties. Remembering the previous night's conversation, Caizo began to pay attention to the colors of the dragons around him. 

_Don't know why you'd come here if you didn't want it._ Lesaf's voice lingered in his mind as he tried to remember his dragon songs. There were many more greens and blue than the bigger dragons, and thus many more green and blue riders. They were mostly men. The Weyr was dominated by men, really, the bright colors swarming like reef-fish. Caizo's chores had been so focused on the indoors, and he'd been doing his best not to notice dragons for the previous ten days, that he'd not realized the stunning differences in colors either.

"Well, that's done," he muttered aloud, leaning the last sack against a pile, clapping his hands to get the dust off.

"You're never finished with firestone," a green-knotted weyrling warned him cheerfully, passing at a trot. The lad's pale dragon whipped down and landed on the pile, sending sacks every which way as it first flung up its rider to the saddle, then gripped two big bags in its claws before returning to the skies.

The problem, Caizo groused, covering his face from the spray of firestone, was really that he didn't know anything at all about the Weyr. He knew the names of perhaps five of the other lads -- the Weyrleader's lad, he knew by name and sight both, but that was all. 

Surely he wouldn't be Impressing?

But he stood there, mind whirling, as he realized that he, Caizo, might want to be the one leaping up to a green's back one day. A fighting dragon. The men around him all had purpose, even when they lounged. They could lounge because they had purpose.

"Oy. Dreamer." Someone smacked Caizo on the back of the head and he whipped around, fists up. It was a thickly built brownrider with a lean, much taller healer-knotted man behind him. He looked deeply unimpressed by Caizo's hostility. "Here's one for you, Custa. Keep him out of our way."

Caizo flushed, indignant, but the healer took no notice. 

"Come, boy."

And Caizo went. And so it went. Until the day he woke up and they were confined to the barracks, made to slip on their white robes and stand at the ready, as the wings of the Weyr sought out the guests of Pern.

* * *

Caizo nearly ran for it on the way into the tunnel, then balked again he filed out into the immense Hatching Ground and looked up to see the crowds cheering. 

Unsure of himself, and terrified of making a mistake, he kept himself to the rear of the group so as to get a clear look at what he was getting into. It terrified him, that first hatchling emerging, yolk-slick and gleaming, but he saw the look on the face of the first Impressed, a rich-loam of a brown, and felt himself shiver with exhilaration. The captain wouldn't have missed the hatching. And wouldn't that be awkward? A long flight home sitting beside the man who'd known him for turns. Had taken a chance on him. Oh, forsakes. 

Sick to his stomach, torn between fleeing back up the tunnel and rushing into the near-chaos of the sands around him, Caizo balled his fists at his sides and tried not to throw up.

He saw Impressions but they happened too fast to process; at some particular moments, the crowd would be on its feet with jubilation. He was knocked down once, when a gangly green cracked their foreheads together, its whirling eyes inspecting him. He was cast aside, found unworthy, and narrowly avoided a roving brown with a lashing tail as it swung wide in search of ... someone who was not him, apparently. Someone else. 

Rolling over, trying to regain his feet, Caizo realized with a deep, sudden fear that perhaps the decision would be made for him. Few eggs remained; he wasn't even sure of the number, for sand had been tossed about by weyrlings dragging their wings and bowling over candidates. And then a round egg on the far side of the pile finally split neatly down its crack, spilling a gorgeous dusky blue with an intense expression on its muzzle as it looked right at Caizo with wide, swiftly whirling eyes.

It didn't even tack, just made straight for him. Caizo never had a chance to get out of the way as it knocked him over, fairly hollering, _There you are! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I've been _trying_ to reach you but I couldn't calculate the angle!_

And indeed, there he _was_ , a mentally blue storm front roaring through Caizo's normally-ordered thoughts.

Luckily, someone else had seen the imminent impact and stepped in to help. "What's his name, weyrling?" asked the bluerider who gripped his shoulder, helping him gently to his feet. This, in direct contrast to the last few sevendays and coupled with the blue muzzle shoving into his arms, brought tears to Caizo's eyes.

 _Aulunth,_ Aulunth supplied, head as pert and expressive as a runner's, though his drying wings hung mostly useless at his sides.

"Aulunth," Caizo relayed aloud, reaching to see if he could help Aulunth not step on himself. He tripped in the tangle of limbs, wings, and emotions.

Smiling as he helped untangle them, the bluerider told Aulunth he was pleased to meet him, then looked at Caizo again: "And yours?" The fishercraft apprentice finally found his feet but he looked helplessly at Aulunth.

 _C'zio!_ Aulunth shouted.

"... C'zio," the young man repeated, flinching, casting mentally about for solid footing in the face of Aulunth's torrential demands. "And I'm -- he's -- _we're hungry_." The rider just laughed and gripped Caizo's hand, helping the wobby pair off the sands. Caizo -- C'zio -- didn't even remember to look again for the captain before they passed into the tunnel and out of sight. 

The captain, however, found _him_ while he fed Aulunth, it really did, but 'fed' turned into 'stuff chunks of bloody beast into Aulunth's stomach as fast as you can' and Aulunth insisted on maintaining a running commentary through the whole procedure. _Where did the herdbeast come from? Why is this chunk different-tasting than -- no, don't stop feeding to answer! talk and feed me at the same time! -- than this one?_

Slowly, as Aulunth's belly bulged, C'zio found himself referring to himself with the new name. Breaking it in. It fit all right. It made him feel like quite a different person, as if the old Caizo had died. Passed away and committed to the deeps.

They stumbled into the weyrling barracks, C'zio's white robe soaked with blood, and Aulunth finally ceased to talk -- they found a flat couch down at the far end in the recesses of a nook. The blue curled instinctively into a ball, wrapping his useless wings about his little body, and faded slightly from the forefront of C'zio's mind.

Unfortunately, this just left a mental space into which his roiling doubts and fears could relocate. What in the world was he going to do? 

"C'zio," another candidate -- new weyrling -- called. "Boy at the front for you."

"Thanks," C'zio replied, and realized at once how empty the cavern was. Well, except for the snorting, snuffling, sleeping baby dragons. A runner from the captain, of course. He was expected at the feast. C'zio had known he'd have to face the captain eventually. Better to do it. Maybe he wouldn't be burning _all_ his bridges.

He emerged into the now-dark Benden bowl and stopped dead.

"Here," Naelo said simply, holding out a stack of cloth. "I don't care how I've got to share you with a dragon now. You're still my best friend."

Tears did come to C'zio's eyes then, but Naelo didn't mention them. It was clear C'zio'd had a hard day, what with a hatching and all. But he'd brought the best of C'zio's finery, black trousers with a black vest over a billowing pale blue shirt, and another pair of shined shoes from his locker aboard ship. "Couldn't bring anything else, really, but figured you ought to attend feast with something of quality. Gotta represent the craft now."

C'zio accepted the bundle, his heart torn between regret and elation. "I'm really sorry, Naelo.”

"I know." His friend's mouth twisted as he looked down. "But you've got a dragon now, yeah? You can come visit any time you want." He swallowed. "I'll hold you to that, you know."

"... his name's Aulunth," C'zio said quietly. 

Naelo's forehead wrinkled as he tried to understand the another unfamiliar tradition. "... was that your idea?"

"Nah, he knew it in the shell." C'zio shifted his bundle, afraid he'd break their now-fragile relationship without meaning to; Naelo, though, took a deep breath and seized the situation (and C'zio's shoulder) and pushed the blue weyrling toward his couch with a gentle admonishment: "Change, brother-rider, and we'll go to the feast."

C'zio turned back with a ghost of his old sharp, mischievous self. "You've got two brothers now," he teased. "Don't you want to meet him?"

Naelo faltered, whether in the face of a cave full of baby dragons or a potential Weyr full of angry adults. "Your master won't know, surely? The list of rules for the Hatching sounded as long as my arm..."

"No, come on. We'll be quick." C'zio felt suddenly ecstatic knowing he could bring Naelo in to see the little blue. This would be just the thing that'd keep Naelo close in his life. Help him understand. "We were nearly the last off the sands, Aulunth and me. Everyone else's at the feast and it's just started, so we're good. The little dragons're sleeping like the dead."

Clearly still suspicious, Naelo followed his partner-in-crime down the wide aisle past the handful of occupied dragon couches. A particularly stuffed brown wheezed as he slept; Naelo whispered, "Lucky you're not sleeping next to him."

"Oh, I doubt I'll hear anything over Aulunth's talking," C'zio whispered back. "He'd drive Journeyman mad. There, and step behind the locker, would you? Just in case."

Naelo wondered why the normally social Caizo -- C'zio -- had instinctively chosen a tiny nook so far from the door. There was only one other little beast on its couch, a small blue that hiccuped as it slept. What had happened these last sevendays to his friend? 

But there was Aulunth, curled up tightly in an adorable little ball. 

"Wow, C'zio," he said. "His hide's the color of a storming sea." 

"Figures, doesn't it," C'zio replied. It wasn't a question. Naelo saw the faint, star-struck smile on his friend's face and pushed him again with a gentle, "Dress, jester." C'zio, startled into a grin, stripped quickly, trading blood-stained robe for clean, crisp finery; his eyes never left Aulunth so Naelo took the time to look at the blue. He could certainly appreciate the chance to see the dragon up-close, for the delicate line of Aulunth's muzzle and limpness of his wings made him look helpless as a babe. 

C'zio, responsible for this creature's life? It was hard to imagine.

"I'll always be a fisher," C'zio said suddenly. Naelo looked up and saw that his friend had gone off to wash his hands and face, returning with wet hair and a defiant, blood-free expression. Naelo reached for him, putting an arm around his shoulders, pulling him close. C'zio slipped one around his waist and added thoughtfully, as they watched Aulunth breathe beneath his wrap of wings, "... one of us has to get a firelizard now, you know that."

"Vesrael promised me one if you Impressed," Naelo told him. "So's we can write no matter where I am." He headed off C'zio's jealousy with a quick, "you're the one with the dragon!" and C'zio had to admit this was true. 

"I want to stare at him forever," Naelo said, finally.

"I want to _eat_ ," C'zio replied, his whisper fervent. They retraced their steps to the entrance and nobody must've seem them walking together out of the weyrling barracks because nobody said anything. It wouldn't have mattered anyway. Nobody, not babes nor dragonets nor fierce weyrlingmasters, could change their having been fisherboys together. 

"So you saw Felessan get his bronze?"

C'zio shrugged as if this was irrelevant, but then his face broke into a smirk. "Weyrleader's son."

They said the next words together, out of long practice, as only two unranked boys hoping to prove themselves to ranked men could sympathize: "No pressure." They grinned at each other. C'zio sniffed.

"And did you hear that girl got a green?" Naelo added. "You'd already got knocked over by then, right?"

"What?" 

And they went on across the bowl to find the captain.


End file.
